In the Shadow of the Wall
by KayleeThePete
Summary: Arthur has a sister, NOT Morgan/Morgain/etc., let's see what happens shall we?
1. Chapter 1

This is my King Arthur story that I was writing as **kat tru**, it was under the title: **Untitled for now **- I finally came up with the title about five minutes after I finished editing this chapter. I am reposting it here under my new penname and hope to finish it. Yes I know that I have many other stories going but this one has never really left me even though I have not touched it in over four years; for that I am sorry to those who liked this story. I have done a little editing to it; hopefully certain parts flow a little better than they did. And no I am not going for historical accuracy or even accuracy to Arthurian legend – which I have heard seen and read multiple versions of – this is just me putting my own spin on the movie and having some fun while I'm at it.

Disclaimer: What you recognize: Not mine. What you don't recognize: Mine. I am just playing in the playground sandbox and borrowing toys from other kids for the most part.

**In the Shadow of the Wall**

**Chapter 1**

A dark haired woman knelt by a pond washing clothes; several others stood nearby doing the same.

"Muma! Muma! Look what Arthur has made!"

The woman looked up to see, coming down the hill, a tiny girl of about four or five with long dark curls and dark eyes, the woman prayed that the child didn't trip over her billowing blue dress as she ran head-long down the slope. Behind her was an older boy of maybe 14 with dark hair and green eyes running as well, though more carefully than the girl, and keeping more of an eye on where she was going than she was, ready to help her if need be.

The pair came to a stop, kneeling beside the woman; the boy held something in his hand out for her inspection. "That's beautiful!" She smiled proudly at him as she looked at the clay image.

The boy hurriedly began to wash off his work in the water; the little girl excitedly looking on.

The woman began to stand up, gathering the clothing she had been washing.

Arthur finished rinsing the image off and turned. "Mother-!" He paused when he saw her no longer there; both children looked around for a moment before seeing her a bit away waving to them and then turning to carry her basket back to their home.

The two children waved back watching her a moment. Arthur's attention was suddenly caught and he turned around, getting up. "Pelagius!"

The girl hurriedly got up as well, following her brother.

The boy handed the image to a man leading a horse. "For you."

The man looked down at the image of himself. "Well done, Artorius." He admired the work for a moment before looking back up at the boy and handing it back. "You keep it."

The boy looked slightly disappointed.

"Deliver it to me when you come to Rome."

The disappointment left the boy's face, but sadness remained.

"Pelagius, why can't you stay and teach me like you taught Arthur?" The little girl watched the man with sadness that mirrored her brother's.

Pelagius turned around and smiled at the small child; stroking her hair fondly. "For many reasons, Deirdre. I have been called back to Rome," he gently began listing off the reasons, "you are too young yet to begin your schooling, and your mother has told me that she expects that you will most likely be called to Avalon once you are old enough." He gave her a wry smile. "And they will teach you things that I cannot."

Deirdre pouted. "But I want to learn from you like my big brother. He has learnt so many interesting things from you."

Pelagius chuckled, turning back toward his horse. "Believe me, Deirdre, the things you will learn in Avalon will be beyond anything I could teach you."

All three suddenly heard the faint sound of the whinnying of horses and hoof beats; drawing their attention to the road a way off.

Pelagius moved over to Arthur; grasping his shoulders. "Come." He moved the young boy closer toward the group riding in. Deirdre followed curiously. "Behold, Arthur. Young knights."

Deirdre tilted her head to the side looking at them as closely as she could from their distance. They all looked so young, most near her brother's age; some even younger.

"If you so choose," Pelagius continued, "they may someday be yours to lead, as your father before you."

Arthur looked at him in amazement. "I'm to be their commander?"

Deirdre's own gaze went to the man as well, surprise obvious on her face.

"Yes." Pelagius nodded. "But with this title comes a sacred responsibility to protect, to defend, to value their lives above your own, and," Pelagius knelt down in front of Arthur still grasping his shoulders, "should they perish in battle, to live your life gloriously in honor of their memory."

Arthur glanced over at the young knights briefly before looking back at Pelagius asking, "And what of their free will?"

"It has always fallen to a few to sacrifice for the good of many. The world isn't a perfect place, but perhaps people like you, Arthur, and me, and them," he glanced over at the small girl smiling, "and Deirdre," she grinned at him, "can make it so." He gave Arthur a final brief smile and squeezed his shoulders encouragingly before getting up and going over to his horse.

Arthur turned back to the boys being led toward the wall.

Deirdre moved closer to her big brother and reached up to take his hand. He looked down at her, smiling at her; nodding firmly before they both looked back at the long train of horses.

Pelagius mounted his horse and they both turned to him. "Good bye; I hope to see you both in Rome someday."

"Good bye, Pelagius." Arthur gripped the image tighter in his hand; Deirdre waved to the departing man with her free hand.

The two children watched the man who had cared for them like a father ride off.

The next day, Arthur found himself being led toward the training grounds; Deirdre tagged along since their mother was busy with work around the house and the little girl had the tendency to get underfoot. Arthur could have been privately trained, as most Roman Commanders were, but he had said that he preferred to train with the men he would be fighting with.

When they got to the grounds Arthur told Deirdre to stay at the fence that surrounded the training area. The little girl climbed up and sat down on the middle of the three cross poles of the fence easily able to fit between it and the top one while sitting due to her small size.

The knights were being led out to the grounds as well; Deirdre noticed one of the older ones, he was very tall and looked around 16 or 17, looking at her; and she curiously stared back. He gave her a small smile; she smiled and waved her fingers shyly. One of the soldier's voices calling for attention drew his gaze from her and to where Arthur stood with the soldiers trying to look calm and cool, but Deirdre could easily tell that her brother was nervous.

"This is Artorius Castus; he will be your commander," the soldier's voice boomed.

The knights looked at the young commander, most with curiosity, some with doubt and others' expressions were unreadable to Deirdre.

"Your training as knights begins today." The soldier, who was to train them, looked out over the group, including Arthur in his scan.

Over the next few days the boys were put through rigorous exercises not only with weapons and refining of their riding, but also being sent off on long runs, often weighed down with gear. Arthur definitely was not one of the strongest and as it was most of the boys looked down on him because he was a Roman.

It was about two weeks after the knights had arrived when Deirdre was sitting a ways back as the boys were lined up in front of targets and handed bows and arrows. This was their first archery lesson; some seemed to be skilled with the bow already but others seemed to have even less of an idea of what to do with them than Deirdre would have in their position. Some were struggling to just properly knock the arrow; one boy of about eight or nine had finally knocked the arrow and was attempting to draw the arrow back when the arrow slipped between his fingers, firing off…

…right into one of the soldiers' back end.

Deirdre clapped her hands over her mouth in an attempt to stifle her laughter as the soldier, while not badly injured, went down on his knees, howling in pain. Many of the young knights weren't so tactful and roared with laughter.

The poor boy looked horrified as the soldier was led off by one of his comrades; then the boy blanched when he noticed the instructor storming over to him.

The other boys quieted and sobered when they saw this.

"Stupid boy!" the instructor snarled. He snatched the boy's bow and nodded to another soldier who grabbed the boy, roughly removed his shirt, pushed him hard against the nearest fence and snapped at him to hold on. The instructor moved behind the boy and raised the bow.

Deirdre realized what he was going to do and gasped, pressing her hands over her eyes.

Arthur's eyes went wide with horror. "NO!" He rushed forward with a cry and placed himself between the instructor and the younger boy.

"Move, Artorius," the instructor snapped. "He must be punished."

"It was an accident!"

"He must be taught a lesson!"

Arthur bit his lip.

The other boys watched silently.

"I am his commander, punish me."

The young knights and instructor gaped at him.

Deirdre, having removed her hands from her face, stared at her brother with wide eyes as she stood and began to walk toward them.

The instructor composed himself and looked at Arthur scornfully. "Don't be stupid, Arthur, you have not done something wrong. Now get out of the way."

"No! I am his commander, and as his commander he is my responsibility, so punish me!" Arthur pulled off his own shirt and then turned to the other boy. "Go." The boy seemed to be almost reluctant for a moment to do as he said. "Go!" Arthur put more force behind the word this time, making it a command; finally the boy moved and Arthur took his place holding the fence.

Deirdre was now standing close to the group of knights.

The tall knight who had been watching her the first day noticed her presence and came over to her. "I don't think you should see this, little one." His voice was rather deep and strong.

She looked at him; her lip trembled. "He's my brother."

"All the more reason," he said softly.

She shook her head and resolutely looked back to where the instructor was moving behind her brother and preparing to raise the bow.

She heard the knight sigh and he gently rested a hand on her shoulder.

Deirdre flinched as the bow struck Arthur's back the first time, and the second, and the third…

Deirdre didn't even feel the tears falling down her face as she watched her big brother being beaten; livid red lines marred his young back.

Arthur didn't cry out once.

After the last strike it was silent and still for a moment before the instructor yelled at them to get back to their training.

Arthur stiffly bent down, retrieving his shirt, and pulled it on. He picked his bow and arrows back up and headed back to his place in line, pretending he didn't see all of the boys watching him.

Deirdre watched him tearfully. She felt a gentle squeeze on her shoulder and looked up. The knight smiled at her. "Don't worry, little one, I'll keep an eye on your brother." She gave him the smallest of smiles before he turned and headed to a spot next to Arthur.

Deirdre just stood where she was, watching them. When the instructor finally dismissed them some time later, she was still standing in the exact same spot.

Training for the day was finally over; Arthur headed to the building where all of the knights were staying, he had decided to stay with them most nights and visit home every couple of days. He was missing dinner by going straight to the barracks, but he didn't care, he was tired and his body was screaming at him, in more pain than it had ever been. He pushed open the door, revealing the large, one room, interior that was jammed with beds. He stumbled over to his bed and flopped down on his stomach; falling asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Deirdre had quietly followed her brother to the barracks; she peeked through the doorway to see her brother fall into bed. She watched him for a couple more minutes before running off.

She moved through the walkways of the fortress, mostly unnoticed, until she reached the back entrance to the mess hall kitchen. She, quietly as she could, crept in, not knowing she had been seen. The staff didn't seem to see her hiding behind, under and between things as she snuck some items of food into a small sack she had found in a basket under a table. Finally she snuck back out and was about to run off back to her brother when she was abruptly swept up by a pair of strong arms; she gave a cry of surprise.

"Don't be afraid, little one, it's just me."

She turned her head to find the knight who had comforted her earlier.

"Now what are you doing with that food?" He arched an eyebrow expectantly.

She bit her lip. "Please don't tell on me! I didn't want to have to run all the way home and back and this was closer and I was just worried about my brother!"

"Where _is _Artorius?"

Deirdre turned her head to find a young knight about Arthur's age with dark curly hair. She bit her lip again, not wanting her brother to possibly get in trouble.

"You don't have to worry, little one, we're just wondering where he is."

Her gaze was drawn back to the older knight.

"H-he's in the bunkhouse. I-I don't think he's feeling that good."

The younger knight glanced over at the older one. "No, I don't suppose he is."

The older knight looked back at Deirdre. "How 'bout we go look in on him, hmm?"

She hesitantly nodded. He put her back on the ground, but held her hand as they headed off in the direction of the barracks.

Arthur stirred slightly. He didn't know what woke him but his eyes slowly slid open. He still felt exhausted, but he blinked a couple of times to clear his vision before he looked around.

"You're awake. How are you feeling?"

Arthur found himself looking at one of the knights; he wracked his memory for his name.

"Like shit I imagine," the dark haired knight continued; there was a wry twist to his mouth; Arthur had the feeling that it was rare when this knight's face _didn't_ hold _some_ amusement.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but a croak came out instead. The knight helped him sit up and handed him a cup which Arthur gratefully accepted; he took a deep drink before handing it back and clearing his throat. "You're Lancelot, right?"

The knight nodded. "Yeah. What do you prefer to go by, Artorius or Arthur?"

"I'm mostly called Arthur."

Lancelot nodded.

Arthur glanced around, noticing a dim light emanating from the windows and that all of the beds save his and the one Lancelot was sitting on, were empty. "What are you doing here, why aren't you at dinner or the tavern?"

"Dagonet and I didn't know where you were; then we ran into your sister sneaking food for you out of the kitchen and she told us you were here. She went with Dag to get some stuff for your back and asked me to stay here and keep an eye on you."

"You didn't have to do that."

Lancelot shrugged. "We're knights; I figure we have to stick together."

They both turned when they heard the door open; Arthur saw his sister enter with a tall older knight.

"Good, you're awake," the knight rumbled.

"Arthur!" Deirdre ran over, coming to a stop in front of him, her eyes watching him worriedly.

Arthur smiled at her reassuringly. "I'm alright, Deirdre."

"If you were alright you would be at dinner right now and not sitting on your bed about to fall over," the tall knight said bluntly.

Lancelot smirked

"Now, remove your shirt and lie on your stomach." The older knight set the bag he had been carrying on a bed and began removing items.

Arthur glanced questioningly at Lancelot.

"Dagonet has some skills in healing."

Arthur felt rather surprised at this, most of what he had seen of Dagonet was him fighting, he was one of the strongest, and the idea of the knight being a healer was rather at odds with that knowledge, but nodded and did as he was told.

Dagonet came to stand next to the bed; he sighed heavily at the young commander's back, which was covered with welts; there were places where the skin had actually broken and bled. Dagonet glanced over where Arthur's little sister stood. "Would you like to help me, Deirdre?"

She nodded eagerly.

"Good, I want you to go on the other side of the bed and sit there for a moment." The healer retrieved several items from where he had placed them on the other bed.

Deirdre quickly did as he bid.

Dagonet moved back to the bed holding two clean cloths and a bottle; he poured some of the bottle's contents onto one of the cloths and handed it to Deirdre before pouring some on the second and setting the bottle aside. "Watch me." He began to gently wipe the cloth along Arthur's back; when he came across an open sore he dabbed it gently. Deirdre paid close attention; then mimicked his motions on another part of Arthur's back. "Good," Dagonet murmured. "Make sure you remove all of the dirt from the wounds."

Deirdre nodded seriously keeping her attention on the task Dagonet had set upon her.

Arthur's face was turned away from Deirdre and toward Dagonet, so she couldn't see how he winced each time one of the cloths came in contact with a sore, but Dagonet could. He understood his commander's unspoken wish that his sister didn't know that he was hurting.

Once they had cleaned Arthur's back Dagonet took the cloth back from Deirdre; he then picked up a small lidded container and opened it. He dipped his fingers in, gathering some of the salve in it on them; he extended it to Deirdre who did the same; he set it just in reach on the bed, but where it wouldn't get knocked over. He then smeared the soothing substance over Arthur's back, Deirdre watched him again, without being told to; then did as he did. Dagonet heard Arthur's sigh of relief and saw the younger boy's body relax as the salve took effect.

When they had finished, Arthur was dozing lightly. Dagonet picked up a clean cloth and wiped off his fingers; then reached for Deirdre's hands and gently cleaned off the salve. He glanced up at her face and smiled when he noticed a smear on her nose and one on her forehead from when she had most likely pushed back some wayward curl or scratched her nose. He gently gripped her chin asking her to hold still for a moment as he wiped away the smudges; she grinned up at him and once he was done he tweaked her nose. "Imp." If anything her grin became wider, which caused Lancelot to laugh.

"You seem rather proud of that."

She turned to the curly haired knight the proud grin still in place. "Arthur and Muma call me that every day."

Lancelot snorted as he reached for the bag of food and began removing the items; setting them on one of the spare cloths Dagonet had brought with him.

Dagonet smirked, putting the healing supplies back into the bag. "And how does your mother feel about you being happy about being called that?"

"She laughs when she says it." The two knights and girl looked down at Arthur's reply, which was slightly muffled from the pillow he was face down on. "It's just the way 'Dre is." He turned his head to smile fondly at his little sister.

"Well, I promised said sister that I would get you to eat something, even if I had to force you to," Lancelot spoke up.

Arthur turned his head toward him, raising an eyebrow; not feeling particularly hungry from the pain.

Lancelot held a hunk of bread he had ripped off of the loaf Deirdre had snatched from the kitchen. "So, since I am rather honor bound to keep my promise we can do this the easy way, or the hard way where I have Dagonet pin you down and I shove this down your throat."

Arthur locked stares with him; both of them sat still for several moments.

Lancelot looked over his shoulder. "Dagonet-"

"Wait." Arthur struggled into a sitting position; then reached his hand out for the bread which Lancelot handed over with a smirk, to which Arthur replied with a glare before dutifully biting into the bread.

As he ate, Arthur realized how hungry he really was and after the first few bites made no further complaint.

His three companions joined him in eating.

Deirdre tilted her head curiously at Dagonet and Lancelot as she munched on an apple. "What's your home like?"

Both Sarmatians looked up, their surprise at her question evident; they looked at each other for a moment.

Lancelot was the first to speak up a cheeky grin on his face. "We sacrificed goats, drank their blood and danced naked 'round fires."

Arthur reached over and punched him in the arm. Lancelot gripped his arm, laughing.

Dagonet rolled his eyes and turned to the small girl whose eyes were wide. "Ignore him." Deirdre turned to him, eyes still wide. "He was joking." The older Sarmatian knight turned a reproving look on the younger, who grinned at him unrepentantly. "Don't take him too seriously."

Deirdre's gaze became curious again and this time she leveled it solely on Dagonet, obviously having learnt better than to listen to Lancelot. "So what _is_ your home like?"

Dagonet sat quietly for a moment, thinking; even Lancelot had become relatively serious, actually giving the question thought.

"Fields of grass…like the ocean, in every direction, further than you can ride." Dagonet's eyes became distant. "The sky…huge beyond reckoning."

"No buildings…towns…walls," he cast a glance in the direction of the wall, "to break it up." Lancelot was looking down at the floor.

Deirdre listened raptly. "That's sounds beautiful, so unlike anywhere I have ever seen."

Arthur looked at his little sister slightly wryly. "You have only ever been here, in Britain, Deirdre."

The two Sarmatians looked at them curiously.

"I thought you were Roman," commented Lancelot.

Arthur turned to them. "Our father was, but our mother is Britain."

There were looks of surprise on both faces.

"I was born in Rome and visited it once with our father and mother, before he died. Deirdre was born here, our father died before her birth and our mother has just never had the opportunity to take us back, though she plans to at least take Deirdre before she is taken to Avalon."

"Avalon?" Lancelot looked truly lost; Dagonet, on the other hand had a thoughtful look on his face.

Arthur nodded. "It is an island north of the wall, guarded by magic; most of the women there are priestesses with great mystical abilities. When girls with the gift are found they are brought to the isle to train in the ways for several years, though if they are young when they are located the priestesses will wait until they are older before taking them."

"My mother told me stories of an Avalon, but I thought it was just a fairy tale," Dagonet spoke up.

Deirdre shook her head vehemently. "It is _very_ real! Our muma is a priestess." Deirdre was smiling proudly.

Arthur nodded. "It is actually how she and our father met. His men were badly wounded in a battle; our mother was in the nearest village at the time; she helped heal them; father used to tell me that the first time he saw her, tending to his men, he fell in love with her instantly."

Lancelot chuckled. "Now this really _does _sound like a fairy tale."

Arthur shrugged. "That is just was my father told me. Anyway, there are other people on Avalon who aren't priestesses, people who have run there for their protection."

"Protection?" Lancelot looked at him inquiringly.

Dagonet nodded. "My mother told me that the priestesses of Avalon will take into their protection any who need it; they turn none away."

"They don't have many laws in their land, but of those they _do_ have they are stringent in being sure they are followed; they are particularly protective of women and children," Arthur added. "Mother once told us of a woman and her children, who were being beaten by her husband on the island and when the priestesses found out he was lucky they didn't kill him; he was cast out of the island, once he had been punished, and was never again permitted to return."

"They also let anyone come to the island, no matter what you are; the priestesses are from all different places too!" Deirdre piped in.

The Sarmatian knights looked at her doubtfully.

"She speaks the truth," Arthur defended, "the priestesses and people of the isle are from not only Britain but Rome, Sarmatia, Greece, Africa, Spain, all over the Empire…even Woads."

"How is this possible? To get to the island itself, if it is above the Wall, you have to pass through Woad territory, and they aren't friendly to people not of them." Lancelot looked at him intently.

"Avalon and the priestesses of it are held sacred by the Woads; they will not harm priestesses, nor will they attack anyone going to or from Avalon, it is an unspoken law, but it is universally followed by the Woads," Arthur explained.

"How is it that Rome allows these women to be as they are?" Lancelot questioned.

"To begin with, their island is above the Wall and beyond the purview of Rome. Secondly, magic protects the isle, making it unreachable save by those who are of it or invited to it." Arthur shrugged. "Besides they fear the women of it somewhat because of the powers they wield and it is more useful to Rome to keep the women happy since they have the best healers in the empire."

Lancelot glanced over at Dagonet. "You know, I think I rather like these women already."

There were chuckles of laughter.

Lancelot glanced over at Deirdre. "So, when you become one of these powerful women, am I going to have to bow and scrape?"

Deirdre giggled behind her hand, shaking her head at his teasing. "'The Priestesses of Avalon are the servants, not the people.'" The Sarmatians gave her identical looks of surprise. "Muma told me that's the code of the priestesses. 'For with great power comes great responsibility.' That's what Pelagius told me and Arthur."

Arthur nodded at the knights incredulous looks. "Mother told us that it is the first lesson taught to priestesses, since the temptation to abuse such power is great."

Lancelot still looked rather doubtful. "I still find it hard to believe that these women can be that selfless."

Deirdre's expression became sad. "Not all of them are."

Arthur nodded. "Mother told us about some women who misused their power and what the other priestesses had to go through to stop them." His expression was grim. "There were literal battles; the fighting was ugly; many innocents along with those fighting were killed, injured…or worse."

Dagonet's head came up from where it had been bowed as he had listened. "Worse?"

Arthur cast a glance at his sister before answering. "You would be surprised at the terrible effects a spell can have on a person."

Dagonet's own face became grim. "Power of any kind in the wrong hands is…dangerous."

Arthur glanced up at one of the windows and grimaced, just barely holding back a curse. "Mother is going to be near panic by now with you missing, 'Dre." He began to get up.

Dagonet and Lancelot each clamped a hand on one of his shoulders, keeping him from rising.

"You're in no condition to go anywhere, Arthur." Lancelot was scowling.

Dagonet nodded. "I will take Deirdre home; you rest." He patted his commander's shoulder as he rose; he turned his attention to Lancelot. "Make sure he doesn't leave this bed."

Lancelot gave him a mock salute, to which Dagonet rolled his eyes as he reached a hand toward Deirdre who got up and took it. She gave her brother a quick kiss on the cheek and ordered him seriously to rest and get better – her expression and tone had Lancelot choking back laughter – before she allowed Dagonet to lead her off.

About half way to the house Dagonet picked an already half-asleep Deirdre up in his arms and she was fully asleep soon thereafter, her head nestled in the joint of his shoulder and neck. Her small body barely weighed a thing in his arms.

He came to a stop in front of the door to the Castus house and knocked. A harried looking woman answered quickly, a cloak about her, obviously about to go out. Relief flooded her features when she saw Deirdre in Dagonet's arms.

"She's asleep," Dagonet whispered, before the woman could say anything, he could tell she was Arthur's and Deirdre's mother, he could see her in both of her children. He carefully handed her to her mother, stroking a hand down the girl's back once she was safely in her mother's arms.

"I was so worried when she missed dinner; I was about to go out to look for her. Where was she?"

Dagonet considered what to tell her; from what he could tell of Arthur he wouldn't want his mother to worry over him. "Arthur had a hard day in training so she brought him dinner in the barracks; Lancelot, another knight, and I ran into her and we all ended up eating together. We didn't realize it had become so late so I said I would take her home." Dagonet was usually a man of few words but he felt the need to give this longer answer to hopefully assuage her fears.

Igraine Castus looked worried. "Is Arthur alright?"

Dagonet nodded. "He would have come, but he was so tired we worried about him going."

Igraine nodded; she appeared to be somewhat soothed by his answer, but he could tell she still harbored a mother's worry for her child. She finally gave him a curious look. "May I inquire as to your name?"

Dagonet didn't allow it to show, but he felt a flush of embarrassment at his lack of manners, knowing the earful his mother would have given him. "Forgive me, my lady, I forgot my manners. I'm Dagonet, a Sarmatian knight."

She smiled at him. "No reason to apologize, I am honored to meet you, Sir Dagonet. And I thank you so much for bringing my daughter home." She smiled lovingly down at the little girl before looking back up. "I also thank you, to you and the other knight for letting her spend time with you and Arthur." Her expression became sad. "She gets so lonely sometimes; there are few children her age around, and no girls."

Dagonet smiled at her widely. "It was no hardship; she is a joy to have around, Lady Castus."

She smiled back. "Aye, she is that." Looking down at her daughter fondly. "She's a little minx a lot of the time, but so joyful and sweet."

Dagonet glanced at the horizon. "I had best head back; it is getting late."

She nodded. "Thank you so much again."

Dagonet bowed respectfully. "It was an honor and a pleasure, Lady Castus. Good night."

"Good evening."

The next day Arthur noticed a change in the way his fellow knights treated him. There was a general air of respect for him; most of the knights had rethought their opinion of him after he took the beating; not only that he took it for one of the knights, but also the way he conducted himself as he took the beating and thereafter.

He and Lancelot actually became rather inseparable; Lancelot was the only knight who could really pull Arthur out of his serious shell and get him to join in the jesting with the other knights.

Arthur found that he now had the complete, unquestioning faith and loyalty of Dagonet; something that both honored and terrified the young commander; he prayed that he would be able to prove that that trust was not misplaced.

The young knight he had intervened on the behalf of, Galahad, had nervously thanked him and inquired as to why he had done it. That had given Arthur a pause before he responded, "'With great power comes great responsibility.'" Galahad looked at him with surprise and confusion. Arthur shrugged. "That's what I've been taught."

A knight named Tristan nearly caused Arthur to fall over with shock when he muttered some advice to him during archery practice. The knight barely said anything at all to anyone, and had never said a word to Arthur before.

Bors was a rough looking knight who was already obviously head-over-heels for the tavern owner's daughter, Vanora, and had become close to Dagonet. The friendship baffled Arthur since Dagonet was quiet and more reserved where Bors was more boisterous and outspoken. Bors had been one of the ones who had been most skeptical of Arthur but now looked on him with new respect and it had been solidified because Dagonet held him in such high esteem.

A few weeks after Arthur took Galahad's beating a group of soldiers rode in with five more young knights in tow; the knights who were already at the wall soon found out that these knights were actually being transferred from another post and had actually been in training longer than they had. The "original" knights of the Wall were not wholly sure how to react to the "new" knights. Arthur immediately stepped forward and welcomed them; the rest of the knights took their cue from Arthur and did the same.

Galahad, who was the smallest knight stationed at the wall, was often picked on by some of the older knights. Arthur and the other knights he had become particularly close to, did their best to try and stave this off, but weren't always around to do so. Two of the "new" knights had decided that it would be fun to push Galahad around; the younger knight fought back as best as he possibly could, but had little success since they were twice his size and age. Another one of the "new" knights, Gawain, had charged right up to them and told them to "Back the hell off." He and Galahad ended up sporting matching black eyes, but the other two knights had walked away feeling it even more, and after that he and Galahad were inseparable.

Deirdre had become a familiar sight on the training grounds and in the buildings the knights inhabited. Most looked on her as a surrogate little sister and were becoming as fiercely protective of her as Arthur.

One time an older boy had ripped the head off of Deirdre's favorite doll; she had run to her brother and his friends in tears, wailing. Lancelot had sat her next to him and cracked jokes until she was smiling and laughing again, while Dagonet sewed the doll's head back on. After that incident Bors had quietly taken her aside and instructed her in what could be _loosely_ called a form of self-defense; the next time the boy had attempted to bully her she had socked him in the jaw hard enough that he landed on his backend. Lady Castus hadn't known what to think, she was shocked at her daughter hitting someone, though she was glad that her little girl hadn't let the boy push her around. Arthur had played the stern older brother and scolded her over fighting, but in the same breath he told her how proud he was of her standing up for herself. The knights had laughed raucously and congratulated her on a great punch.

One afternoon, after training had broken for lunch, Gawain and Galahad came across Deirdre in one of the empty stables, the smallest bow that the knights had, which was still far too big for her, in her hands, struggling to shoot the arrow at a board. The pair thought "What could it hurt to give her some pointers?" After that first archery lesson fiasco Galahad had approached the skill with a new gusto and was now on his way to becoming one of the best archers of the knights. They had given her some instructions and by the time they were finished she could hit the target.

A few days later, when she snuck into the stable to practice again, Deirdre found lying next to the target a smaller bow and quiver of smaller arrows, more suited to her size.

Gawain soon thereafter handed her a knife and he and Galahad began to teach her how to throw one at the target. Gawain soon realized why when people threw knives you generally stood behind them when one of Deirdre's throws was particularly off and would have hit him if he hadn't jumped to the side.

Tristan caught her gazing longingly at the boys playing with toy swords. A few days later after training was done for the day he approached her and handed her a wooden sword and asked, gruffly, "You know how to use that?" Deirdre had stared at him in shock and shook her head slowly. He had grunted and the preceded to instruct her in using a sword.

A week or so later Gawain and Galahad had doubled over in laughter as they watched the tiny five-year-old, who was fighting an older boy, whack the backs of the knees thus bringing him down.

Bors continued to teach her "self-defense", though the boys tended not to bother her too much any more due to the last time she exhibited her ability to stand up for herself, and the dark scowls the knights-in-training threw their way.

Arthur decided to turn a blind eye to all of this, since Deirdre was having more fun than he had seen her having in a long time. However, not all of Deirdre's lessons with the knights were quite so…controversial.

Dagonet, after discovering her enthusiasm for healing, began to teach her in its ways; taking her out with him hunting for herbs, barks and plants. Igraine was quite thrilled with her daughter's passion for the art and encouraged it; she would sometimes go with them and traded knowledge with Dagonet.

Some of the knights teased Dagonet about his "little apprentice;" the knight just shrugged it off. Deirdre was proud and excited to be taught by him and listened eagerly.

Lancelot, much to Arthur's surprise, was the other knight whose lessons were more or less acceptable for a young girl. Lancelot and Arthur were becoming best friends, but he enjoyed yanking everyone, including Arthur's, chain. Lancelot had noticed Deirdre watching the knights practicing their riding wistfully; after their riding session was done, for the day he had ridden over to her and asked her if she would like to go for a ride; she had eagerly accepted. She had worn one of the biggest smiles Arthur had ever seen on her as she and Lancelot galloped around. After that Lancelot had begun to teach her how to ride, always staying close to the side of the horse when she was sitting atop it alone, to ensure the safety of the small child.

Arthur had thanked each of the knights for their actions toward his sister; they had all waved off his thanks, telling him that it wasn't necessary and that they enjoyed it.

Arthur knew his and Deirdre's mother knew that the little girl spent all of her days at the training compound and in the market at the Wall, and that she knew of the riding lessons as well as the healing and even Bors' lessons. But he doubted she knew of Deirdre's other lessons and Arthur wasn't particularly eager to let her know, so he just kept his mouth shut, at least until it became necessary to tell her.

All in all life, for the knights and the people of the Wall, had settled in nicely and was going well.

Deirdre had gone home hours ago and the knights were at the riding arena, sitting on the fences watching Galahad and Lancelot trying to outmaneuver each other on their horses. They were laughing loudly; in particular at Lancelot's outrageous flirting with Vanora, who had stopped by to "give them some drinks and food" (they all knew it was just an excuse to see Bors.) They all knew Lancelot was flirting with her just to annoy Bors, but it was highly entertaining.

They were laughing as Dagonet was forced to physically restrain Bors from attacking Lancelot when Tristan, who was sitting off to the side watching them silently, glanced at the sky and frowned. "Arthur!"

The young commander looked up at the call of his name; he turned in the direction Tristan was pointing and the smile slid off of his face. The other knights looked to see what had caused this reaction and their own mirth faded.

A cloud of smoke was drifting over the sky.

The knights were out of their seats in an instant and running in the direction of the smoke. They found soldiers were running in the same direction.

More and more color drained from Arthur's face the closer they got to the site of the fire; the group came to a dead halt when they finally saw it. All color had left Arthur's face.

"Mother." His voice was barely a whisper. "Deirdre."

He took off at a sprint down the hill; the knights following him. He basically ran into the fence and screamed at the top of his lungs. "MOTHER!"

The woman who was standing at the entrance of her home, having just exited it, looked over at him; a look of relief crossed her face, but then her head snapped forward as a burning cart came hurtling toward her. "ARTORIUS!" She was knocked back inside.

"MOTHER!"

Arthur spun around and ran off into the darkness; Lancelot took off after his friend while the other knights looked over at them; then at each other, before gripping what weapons they had brought with them and headed into the fray.

"MOTHER!" Arthur cried desolately, gripping Excalibur.

The Woads were all either dead or running off in to the woods.

Arthur glanced around, sorrow on his face; then that sorrow began to turn to terror. "Deirdre! Where's Deirdre?"

The other knights joined him in looking around; they broke up into groups: Arthur and Bors, Galahad and Gawain, and Tristan, Dagonet and Lancelot.

The trio was moving alongside of the house when Tristan came to a halt.

"What is it?" Dagonet looked at the extremely observant knight.

"Screams." He ran a little further before he stopped and moved back a bit and halted in one place. "They are loudest here."

Dagonet peered through the window. The flames inside were intense and the ash burned his eyes, but his gaze swept it thoroughly.

"HELP!" a voice wailed.

He craned his neck as best he could to see just below the window. He could just make out a pair of small feet and a dark head huddled there. "DEIRDRE!"

The child's head shot up.

"Up here, Deirdre!"

She twisted to look up at him; her eyes went wide with relief. "Dagonet! Dagonet, I'm scared!"

"It's alright, little one, we're gonna get you out!" He turned to Lancelot. "Get Arthur and the others."

For once the knight went off without comment.

Dagonet looked back down at the girl. "Deirdre, cover your head."

She quickly did as she was told.

Dagonet stepped back and took his axe to the wooden bars of the window, hacking them until they were out of the way. He and Tristan looked up at the window; Dagonet then glanced at him. "I'm too big to fit through." The younger knight nodded; Dagonet turned back to the window. "Deirdre, Tristan is going to come in and get you out."

"All–" A scream cut off her response, this time it wasn't one of terror, but of pain.

"DEIRDRE!" Dagonet and Tristan craned their necks into the window. Deirdre had moved a bit away from the wall; where she used to sit was a piece of a beam; the back of her dress was burned. Dagonet turned to Tristan and wordlessly gave him a leg up through the window.

Tristan climbed through and pushed off of the wall to avoid the burning debris. He lifted the child in his arms; she clung to him as tightly as she could; he turned back to the window, but there was a small dilemma. With the piece of fallen debris, he couldn't get back to that window. "Dagonet!"

"Yeah!"

"Get the window one over open." Tristan carried Deirdre in that direction.

The wooden bars flew inward with each hit of Dagonet's axe from the other side. Once the window was clear Tristan handed Deirdre through it to the other knight. Once the child was safely through Tristan glanced behind him and backed up a few steps; then he ran forward and used his speed to help launch himself through the window, rolling once he hit the ground. Dagonet extended a hand to him to help him stand, which Tristan accepted after a moment. Dagonet's other arm was wrapped securely around Deirdre, careful of the burns Tristan could see through the hole in her dress; she had locked her arms around the big knight's neck in a death-grip.

Their fellow knights ran up to them.

"Deirdre!"

Her head shot up at Arthur's cry; he reached out to embrace her, but Dagonet placed a gently restraining hand on his shoulder. "She has been burned; you must take care in touching her." Arthur's eyes were instantly drawn to her back as Deirdre whimpered. "I need to get her some place safe where I can treat her."

Deirdre was placed on Dagonet's bed, which sat next to Arthur's; the healer knight had cut the dress from her form exposing burns not only on her back but on her arms, hands, legs and, especially, her feet. There were a couple of burns on her face but it was the least touched part of her body because she had kept it down.

Bors entered the barracks with Vanora as Dagonet was inspecting Deirdre's small form; the young barmaid gasped and ran to the child's side the moment she spotted her. She swallowed hard before looking up at Dagonet. "I'll get some cold water and clean cloths." The knight nodded his thanks for her anticipation of his request; she stood and hurried out, calling for Bors, and a few other knights to follow her.

Dagonet rapped out instructions to Galahad and Gawain as to where his "healing" bag was and told them to get it.

Neither Vanora nor Dagonet bothered to ask Arthur or Lancelot, knowing the chances of Arthur leaving his sister's side were nil, and Lancelot was probably the only one at the moment who could possibly comfort him and keep him calm.

Arthur swallowed. "Is she going to be alright?"

Dagonet glanced up at his commander and friend, debating what to tell him. "Burns are…tricky at best. Like in any injury if the wounds become infected that complicates matters. It also depends on how bad the burns are to begin with. Complications aside, I believe she should recover," he glanced at her back, "though, she will be scarred regardless of how well she heals."

Deirdre whimpered; Dagonet ran a hand over her hair. "Shh…it's ok, little one."

"It hurts!"

"I know," Dagonet kept his voice soothing. "We will do what we can about that."

Arthur had dropped to his knees beside her bed, his face a mask of grief and worry.

Dagonet watched this, swallowing hard; in spite of his earlier words to Arthur, he prayed to whatever higher power that might be listening that they spare this little girl.

I hope that you liked it! I will be reposting the next chapter as soon as I have proof read it again. Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know where I can do better in my writing – beyond not being terrible about updating because I already know I am bad about that, (hangs head in shame) you can partly blame real life and partly is my own disorganized, unfocussed, forgetful fault.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you everyone who read and reviewed. Here it is! Edited Chapter 2 as promised! Thank you to those who read Chapter 1!

**In the Shadow of the Wall**

**Chapter 2**

Arthur had finally been coaxed to sleep by Lancelot and Dagonet, but only after Lancelot had pointed out "What use will you be to 'Dre if you're dead on your feet?" and Dagonet swore on all he held holy that he would stay by Deirdre all night.

Earlier, while Vanora had placed cooling cloths over Deirdre's burns, Dagonet had looked to the knights' injuries from the fight. Once they were all tended to Dagonet returned to Deirdre's side, checking on her burns, which were cooling with the aid of the cloths. After telling Vanora to continue using the cloths he went over to Arthur and, after much prodding from both Lancelot and himself, looked over the worried brother for injuries. Most were minor burns which he placed cool cloths on, telling Lancelot, who was similarly injured, to keep an eye on the cloths and if they were getting too warm to re-soak them in the water, knowing Arthur was too distracted to pay any attention. He checked once more on Deirdre before glancing around the room. He had been looking for Tristan, who had been missing since they arrived in the barracks, for a while, wanting to make sure the knight was all right.

Tristan walked through the door.

Dagonet rose and headed over to the younger knight, who was heading toward his bed. "You all right?"

Tristan looked up at him and shrugged. "Hands a little scorched. Fine otherwise."

Dagonet nodded before nodding down to the aforementioned burned body parts. "Can I see?"

Tristan shrugged again before lifting them up for Dagonet's inspection.

They had lines of burns running across his palms where he had grabbed the window to get himself out. They were thankfully not severe.

"Dunked them in water."

The older knight looked up, slightly surprised; he nodded and went over to his bag and pulled out a bottle, jar and some cloths and then handed them to Tristan. "Clean your hands with that," he motioned to the bottle, "then put some of that salve on them," the jar, "and wrap your hands in the bandages," the cloths that had been cut into long strips, "you should be all right."

Tristan nodded and headed to his bed.

Dagonet watched him for a moment before he went back to Deirdre's bedside.

When Deirdre's burns had cooled enough he and Vanora had applied salve to them and then covered her back with a clean, dry cloth and wrapped her arms and legs as well.

Deirdre had whimpered a few times while they had worked but otherwise was quiet; soon she had fallen asleep.

After Dagonet had finished tending to his sister Arthur had finally let him clean, put salve on and wrap his burns.

Vanora had eventually left and the knights had drifted off to sleep, Arthur being the last, save Dagonet, who sat on a short stool Vanora had brought for him, next to Deirdre's bed.

Arthur often woke himself up and frantically looked around until his eyes settled on Deirdre in the bed next to him again; he would ask Dagonet how she was doing and then fitfully drift back off again. This happened several times during the night. Finally Arthur slipped into a deeper sleep about two hours before dawn; Dagonet himself drifted off soon thereafter, still sitting on the stool, his head lay on his crossed arms, which were resting on Deirdre's bed.

Dawn had just broken when he jerked awake from dreams that had been haunted by flames, screams and the acrid smell of burning flesh.

He blinked rapidly, attempting to clear the bleariness from his eyes; due to his lack of sleep he was slower to waking than usual.

He frowned, something was off. Then it dawned on him as his eyes shot to where Deirdre was resting.

Except Deirdre wasn't there.

Dagonet was on his feet in an instant, his head whipping from one side to the other, searching the room for her. He quietly as possible made his way between the beds, checking under them as well.

Upon confirming that she wasn't in the building; he dashed out the door; his head whipping from one side to the other, desperately trying to think of where she might be.

He was about to run to the stables when a thought occurred to him; and he headed off in a different direction.

On the top of the hill stood a tiny form with dark curls spilling down her back, over the too-big white shift that Vanora had gladly lent; Dagonet had to wonder how she hadn't tripped over the shift as a lot of it dragged on the ground, bunching at her feet.

He came to a stop beside her and knelt down, simply watching her; she didn't react to his presence, just kept staring at the scene below them.

Dagonet turned his head, keeping the rest of his body facing her, to join her in gazing.

The fire had burned itself out sometime during the night; smoke drifted lazily skyward from the blackened, skeletal remains of the house. Weapons littered the ground around the ruins; the bodies had been removed at some point during the night.

The young knight returned his gaze to the small child; he raised a hand and gently brushed the hair that had fallen over her shoulder back before resting that hand on her shoulder.

She finally turned to him, her face blank, save for the slightest tremble to her lower lip.

His heart broke.

He raised his hand, resting it against her cheek as her eyes filled with tears.

She gave a strangled sob before collapsing against him; his arms were instantly around her, still careful of her burns. Her tiny arms clutched his neck as if he was a lifeline; her grief-filled sobs pouring onto his shoulder. Through her sobs he was able to make out "Muma"; she kept repeating it over and over along with "I'm sorry", the former he understood easily, but her apologies were a mystery to him.

Gradually her sobs quieted and her body leaned more and more on him; eventually she was quiet and limp in his arms. Dagonet carefully lifted her and carried her back toward the bunkhouse where he laid her back in his bed.

Arthur jerked upright in his bed and immediately looked toward Dagonet's bed, where the older knight was tucking Deirdre back in.

"What happened?" Arthur began to get out of bed, but Dagonet reached over and gently pushed his commander back in bed.

"She's fine; she just woke up." Dagonet felt guilty not telling his friend the whole truth, but he knew Arthur needed to rest and was having a hard enough time of it with the worries he had for his sister as it was. "She's alright. Rest, Arthur."

Arthur obligingly lay back down, but Dagonet could tell that he wasn't asleep, despite his eyes being closed. The older knight sighed and looked back down at the little girl; he ran a hand over her hair, glad that Arthur hadn't been able to see the tear tracks on her cheeks or her puffy, red eyes. The healer-knight sent a silent prayer up to whatever power might be listening for help in what he knew would be hard days to come.

The instructor allowed the knights to have a day off to recover from the attack on the Castus' house; which most of them used to rest. A small service was held for those who had been killed; Lancelot convinced Arthur to attend, telling him that it was what his mother and Deirdre would want. Deirdre began running a slight fever that had Dagonet worried enough to confine her to bed.

Vanora came early that morning to help Dagonet check on the injuries. Most of the knights were fine, but some had been wounded worse than others and were ordered to bed rest. With Deirdre being kept in bed Arthur hovered by her side when he was there; he got in the way enough that he was starting to wear on even Dagonet's nerves. Vanora and Lancelot noticed his growing frustation and would prod and cajole Arthur into getting out of the barracks to eat or walk around, pointing out that he could bring food back for Deirdre and Dagonet to eat or flowers to hopefully cheer her up a bit.

Training resumed the next day, though Dagonet and those injured badly enough to warrant remaining in bed were excused, while Dagonet was released so that he could attend to the injured. Arthur was, naturally, extremely reluctant to leave Deirdre, whose fever had gone down; he stopped in whenever he could.

Over the days Dagonet progressively returned to training along with the other injured knights. He was wary about leaving Deirdre alone and became even more so when he discovered, after the first day, her new habit of crawling under one of the beds and curling up there.

A week after that nightmare of a night Dagonet finally said Deirdre could leave the barracks; Vanora, that same day, gave Deirdre some of her old dresses, which were still quite a bit too big for the little girl. After that day, they began to find Deirdre in even stranger places: sitting on top of roofs, in trees, and even on the top of the Wall itself.

The knights as a whole were worried about her. Since crying on Dagonet's shoulder she hadn't spoken a word, she could hardly stand to be in the same room as her brother and she hadn't smiled or laughed, her face seemed almost totally blank.

Galahad and Gawain caught a bunny and brought it back to her, hoping that the soft, furry, cute animal would bring out her elusive smile, but she had glanced at the animal and actually run away.

Lancelot asked her to go riding with him, but she had just stared at him silently before walking away.

Vanora would gently ask her if she would like to help her with chores and where Deirdre would have before happily nodded and bounced off beside the older girl to perform the tasks she now just silently went along with her.

Bors would tell her jokes or gently tease her, hoping to coax a laugh out of her, but to no avail.

One of the only ones who didn't seem to be pushing her to come out was Tristan; on his off time he could often be found just sitting silently beside the little girl, just staring off into what seemed to be nothing with her. Sometimes she would lean against him, burying her face in his arm.

Arthur was heartbroken over the change in his sister. He was barely able to concentrate on his training and desperate to find out what was wrong and why she could no longer look at him.

Dagonet spent a great deal of time watching Deirdre, trying to think of what it was that had caused this vast change in her; he kept remembering her apologies that morning and believed that that must have something to do with it. But what?

The knights had finished with their training for the day and Dagonet was now in search of Deirdre; he had a plan that would hopefully get her to open up and tell him what was wrong. She had been suffering silently for almost three weeks and Arthur was nearly out of his mind with worry.

Dagonet found her sitting on a flat rock in the middle of the nearby creek, by the way a good foot of the bottom of her skirt was wet along with her feet she had obviously waded out to it.

"Deirdre."

She turned her head to him.

"I'm going out to look for herbs for my stock, would you like to come with me?"

She looked at him for a moment; then turned back around.

"Please?" He paused. "I could really use the help and company."

She continued staring at the same point.

Dagonet sighed and turned, but froze midway.

Deirdre rose from her sitting position on the rock and waded over to him.

A relieved smile crossed the knight's face as he led the small girl over to where his horse was waiting. He mounted and then reached down and lifted her up in front of him.

Deirdre was silent as they rode, but Dagonet often snuck glances at her face and he swore that he saw the smallest hint of a smile of enjoyment on her face and he knew that her eyes looked less haunted.

They eventually came to a stop in the forest; Dagonet lowered her down; then dismounted himself. He tied his horse to a nearby tree, making sure he wouldn't be able to get away. He turned around and found Deirdre standing exactly where he had set her down, silently watching him expectantly.

Dagonet told her what herbs and plants he needed and they both set off searching.

Deirdre would have normally been chattering away and bounding around, looking at everything and anything and asking an endless stream of questions.

The only noises around them were those of the forest and those the two of them made moving around.

Dagonet held his silence; he actually wanted to say something to her, but he just couldn't think of what.

A couple of hours later they had finished and were putting all that they had gathered into the bags Dagonet had brought with him and either of them had yet to say a word.

Deirdre stood beside the horse as Dagonet prepared to mount, but he paused. He sighed and turned to the small child who watched him slightly confused.

"Deirdre, I asked you to come with me was because I hoped it would cheer you up, but I also asked you so we maybe could talk." He took a deep breath. "I – We –" He broke off and took another breath. "We're all worried about you; Arthur's making himself sick with it. We want to help you. You don't have to talk right now, but any of us would listen. Want to listen." He finally looked back up at Deirdre who was staring at him wide eyed before she quickly looked down. He nervously cleared his throat and turned to mount.

"It's my fault."

It should not take me too long to finish editing the next chapter; I may be able to get it up in the next few days but I may not because of work, I will get it up as soon as possible. Thank you so much for reading; I hope that you enjoyed it!


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to Dark Alana and xXAngelStromXx for reviewing, and to all those who favorited and alerted this story! Here is chapter 3!

**In the Shadow of the Wall**

**Chapter 3**

"It's my fault."

Dagonet froze at the quiet admission; her voice was slightly raspy from disuse. He quickly turned to her; she was still staring at the ground. He knelt down facing her. "What's your fault?"

She raised her face; her eyes were filled with tears. "It's my fault Muma died."

Dagonet's mouth dropped open. He began closing and opening his mouth, trying to talk, but nothing came out. He did not know what he had been expecting, but _that_ certainly was not it.

Deirdre's words suddenly spilled forth in a rush, like a burst dam. "I saw her! I saw her fall back inside an – and she was burning."

Dagonet felt like a chunk of ice had settled in the pit of his stomach.

"I – I should have g-gone a-a-and h-help-ped her. But…I-I couldn't – couldn't m-move."

Dagonet's mouth had gone dry.

"A-an-nd Ar-Arthur is going – going t-to h-ha-t-te m-me, b-bec-cause I-I l-let her _die_!"

Dagonet gaped at what she had said, staring at her sobbing, heartbroken form. He finally was able to shake himself from his shock and quickly gathered her in his arms; holding her close; her tiny arms locked themselves around his neck and she sobbed into it; he could feel her tears soaking his skin. "Shh…shh…That's not true, Deirdre. Arthur would never blame you for that. There was nothing you could do."

"But –"

"No," his voice was gentle but firm. "You couldn't have saved your mother; you would have been killed as well, and that would have destroyed Arthur, loosing both of you." He rubbed a hand up and down her back before pulling away enough to look her in the eye. "Look at me Deirdre." She reluctantly did as he said. "Arthur loves you; you are each other's family and he needs you, just as much as you need him. He is worried about you; all he wants is for you to be happy."

Deirdre's eyes were filled with tears and she felt so guilty and was hurting so bad, but she desperately wanted to believe him. "Really?"

Dagonet nodded. "Just talk to him; he wants to know what's wrong."

She swallowed; she still looked a little apprehensive, but she nodded.

Dagonet smiled and gave her a quick hug before climbing up in the saddle and pulling her up in front of him.

They rode up to the corral where Lancelot was showing off, as usual. Most of the knights, including Arthur, were gathered around the fence watching; they looked over when Dagonet and Deirdre rode up.

When she saw her brother Deirdre's lip trembled and tears began to well in her eyes; Arthur noticed this and he frowned worriedly as he walked over to them. Once he reached the horse's side Deirdre all but threw herself from the horse's back and into her brother's arms, sobbing.

"I'm sorry, Arthur! I'm sorry!" She sobbed into his shoulder; Arthur was holding her, looking completely bewildered; he glanced at Dagonet who just who simply said, "Listen to her."

Over the next several minutes Deirdre was able to finally repeat, through her sobs, to her brother what she had told Dagonet. As he listened Arthur's jaw had slowly dropped open and when she had finished he pulled her into a tight embrace, telling her over and over that it wasn't her fault and that he loved her no matter what.

Over the next few days the wall's inhabitants began to see the Deirdre they all knew and loved slowly start to return. Galahad gave her a small bouquet of wild flowers; handing it to her with a flourished bow, drawing a smile from her. One late afternoon in the tavern, before it was too late for Deirdre to be there, Lancelot had grabbed Venora as she passed their table, pulled her into his lap and kissed her thoroughly. Bors had shot up in his seat and started after Lancelot, who had released Vanora and was already running off, laughing. This scene threw the five year-old girl into the first fit of giggles that they had heard from her in weeks, causing Bors and Lancelot to stop dead in their tracks, and the jokester knight to grin widely in triumph at getting the reactions he wanted, from both of them.

The knights who had been present for when Deirdre told her brother what had happened to her felt a large range of emotions: some felt a deep sympathy; many felt sick over the idea that a child should see such a thing as their parent burning to death ever, much less at such a young and tender age; and there was anger and frustration that she had to go through all of the pain.

Arthur felt a deep abiding guilt over the pain his sister had suffered; when he wasn't training he was spending time with his sister reassuring her that he loved her more than anything. His skills began to improve once again in his training; they had deteriorated during Deirdre's depression because his worry had driven him to such distraction.

Deirdre began to return to her old habits of her lessons with the knights and helping Vanora in the tavern in any way she could, but a habit she held onto from her depression was that of going off and sitting in places that everyone found odd; she was particularly fond of climbing up on roofs, the Wall and trees; she frightened Arthur half to death several times when he found her in such places. She would apologize to him for scaring him but it didn't stop her from doing it again; Arthur began to adjust to her new habits, though he still worried for her safety.

And so things at the wall settled down into some form a normalcy.

Until one day, a month after what they had begun to call "The Night".

It was late afternoon; three horses galloped up to the Wall's gate where they came to a stop. Their riders, who wore pale lavender-grey cloaks, tilted their hooded heads upward when one of the guards questioned them as to who they were and their business.

"We are of Avalon; we seek the children of Igraine Castus." The leader of the trio had a smooth, lightly accented, feminine voice.

The highest ranked soldier who was present immediately commanded to get the gates open as quickly as possible and to find their commander and Arthur and Deirdre; he seemed to be the only one who comprehended the full weight of what the woman had said.

It was the afternoon break and the knights were in the tavern eating their meal – well…most of them were eating. Lancelot had "challenged" Deirdre to a "duel"; the scene that played its self out had the knights and Vanora near tears with laughter as Lancelot allowed Deirdre to disarm him and then knock him to the ground.

"Oh, woe befall me! What shall I do! I am beaten!" he cried in a melodramatic voice, eliciting even louder laughter from everyone and causing a few to fall from their seats.

"Artorius Castus!"

All heads turned in the direction of the voice to find one of the soldiers rushing toward them.

They all quieted when they noticed the serious look on the soldier's face.

"What is it?" Arthur forced any worry out of his voice, trying to appear calm.

"You and your sister's presences have been requested at the Wall."

Arthur frowned. "What for?"

The soldier shook his head. "I know not. But the request comes on the behalf of riders who have just arrived from Avalon."

Arthur's head immediately whipped around to look at his sister, who was biting her lip.

Most of the knights looked confused, having never heard of Avalon or what they had heard thinking them just fairy tales, Vanora, Lancelot, Dagonet and another knight named Jason were the only ones who didn't look so confused.

Arthur turned back to the soldier. "Lead the way." He reached out his hand toward Deirdre, who dropped the wooden sword she had been holding and ran over to grab on to the offered security.

The two followed the soldier and were in turn followed by the knights.

Just inside the gate they found the three cloaked and hooded riders dismounting. The leader paused once she was standing; then lowered her hood and she turned to face the group of young people. A tall woman in her late thirties with long brown curls and hazel eyes was revealed; she smiled fondly at Arthur and Deirdre. She moved toward them stopping a couple of feet away.

"Hello, Deirdre, Arthur. I am your mother's sister, your aunt Viviane."

Memories rose in Arthur's mind of this woman as she stood over his sister's cradle with their mother less than a week after Deirdre's birth.

"_She will be strong; she will need that."_

"_But are the healers positive?"_

"_Yes, and you know that it has been nearly a century since we found a true chosen; I fear the burden will fall on this little one's shoulders."_

Arthur never knew what burden it was that they had spoken of, but immediately Arthur had despised it because it would apparently fall on his sister's tiny shoulders.

Arthur nodded in polite formality to their aunt, keeping a firm grip on his sister's hand. "I remember. How are you, Aunt?"

Viviane had cast a glance over the gathering of young men. 'More like boys,' she thought. She had never understood the Roman way of taking these children from their homes and then forcing them to do battle. She knew that if there had been a battle the day that these boys had arrived they would have been forced to go into it, regardless of their lack of training and experience. She looked at Arthur; she remembered the young boy of barely ten whom she had met at Deirdre's birth; she could tell that he had already shouldered the heavy burden of leadership that had been placed on him, it made her cringe that he had to do so at such a young age.

"How are you, Aunt?"

She could see that he was tense. "I mourn for your mother, my sister." He stiffened further. "I would have come sooner, but it is our custom to have ceremonies of mourning for the loss of one of our own for a month." She looked down at her hands. "Igraine will be greatly missed."

Arthur nodded, Deirdre had pressed herself close into her brother's side, watching the strange woman with wide nervous but curious eyes; at the mention of their mother tears had welled in her eyes, her bottom lip trembled and she buried her face in her brother's sleeve.

Viviane cleared her throat. "We came here to visit Igraine's place of death and to see how both of you are doing."

Arthur nodded. "We will show you to the place, but you must be tired. We don't have much in the way of accommodations but there are rooms in the tavern's inn."

"I am sure they are fine; please," she gestured for Arthur to show lead them to the place.

Jols, a young stable hand, who had become particularly, close to the knights, stepped forward and led the riders' horses away to the stables; the three women nodded their thanks to him before following Arthur.

Arthur and the two other Avalonian priestesses watched as Viviane knelt down on one specific spot among the burnt skeleton of the house; her hand reverently scoped up a handful of ashes; tears slowly traced their way down her cheeks to fall on the scorched earth. She removed a small leather pouch from somewhere under her cloak; she poured the handful into it and then concealed it once more from sight.

"What is she doing?" Arthur mumbled softly.

"It is tradition."

Arthur started at the voice of one of the priestesses; he hadn't actually intended for anyone to hear him, much less answer his inquiries.

The cloaked woman continued. "We bring at least some of the ashes of one of our own back with us to Avalon to be scattered there among their element. These ashes of you mother will find rest among our woods."

"It is so that a part of her may remain with us for all time," the four looked up as Viviane came to stand in front of them, "just as part of her will remain here." She looked to her companions. "Let us go take our rest."

They headed back toward the inn, Arthur escorting them, out of politeness.

When they reached the inn Arthur was about to take his leave of them when Viviane called him back, "Arthur, may I have a word with you?"

The young knight paused; then nodded.

Viviane motioned for her two companions to go ahead to their rooms; Viviane turned back to Arthur; she took a deep breath. "I came here not just to see you, your sister and your mother, but also with an offer regarding you sister."

Arthur watched her warily. "I'm listening."

"As you know, Deirdre has been accepted for Avalon since birth, but we only take girls once they reach their seventh year; you sister has only just reached her fifth, but with the death of your mother, and your youth, we decided that – should you both wish – she could come early and live with us."

And there we go… How horrible am I for totally traumatizing a five year old child? Eh… Well, anyway. I will try to get the next chapter revised; it's the last one that is already written. I am going to start on chapter 5; I have been mulling over it for a long time and I think I have figured out how to write it. Thank you for reading and please let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

I have quite a few thank you's to give for reviews: Dark Alana, kitsune-miko-witch, xXAngelStormXx and BlackQueen92. Thank you so much all for reviewing and to those who alerted and favorited this story! Magic will be discussed more in this chapter; like with most of the rest of this story I am not really following Arthurian legend, but letting my imagination take free rein. I hope that you enjoy it!

**In the Shadow of the Wall**

**Chapter 4**

Arthur stared at his aunt for several moments, trying to fully absorb what she had told him.

Viviane watched her nephew's reaction. "I am not asking for an answer now. I will be here for a week and I want you to talk to Deirdre about this; I want the both of you to decide what you want together and then let me know."

Arthur finally nodded.

Viviane returned his nod. "I will see you in the morning." She turned and went into the inn.

Arthur stood there for several moments longer, still struggling to come to terms with what she had proposed. He finally turned and headed back to the barracks.

He stopped outside the building to stare up at it. He really began to think about the implications of what it meant that his sister was under his care now. He had to make sure she was clothed, fed, bathed, that she had a roof over her head. He paused and amended that last thought, that she had a "proper" roof over her head. He blew out a breath as he stared up at the building that, at the moment, his sister inhabited. About 20-odd male youths lived inside; there was little to no privacy; their language was not always as…clean as was appropriate for a young girl…

Arthur rubbed the back of his neck. Was he really ready to be fully responsible for his younger sister's well being? Even if for only two years?

He sighed, staring up at the building that, for him, was coming to represent all his short comings as a "guardian" for his sister. If he couldn't provide a "real home" for her, how could he expect to do all the other things needed?

He looked down at his hands, which in the past year, along with his feet, had grown substantially while the rest of him still hadn't caught up. He compared his hands to how he remembered his father's; his were still substantially smaller, still more those of a boy; not those of a man.

He clenched his hands into fists and looked up at the building once more before he finally went inside.

The knights were all clustered to one side of the room, sprawled out on chairs, beds and the floor. Dagonet was sitting in a chair that was pushed up against a wall, the center of all the attention; he was reading from a scroll what sounded like the Iliad. Deirdre was in his lap, her thumb stuck in her mouth, a habit that had begun to fade over the last two years, but had returned almost full force after their mother's death. Vanora was there as well, sitting next to Bors on one of the beds nearest to Dagonet. The story was holding them all enthralled. Even Galahad and Gawain, for whom it was nearly impossible to sit still long, were listening raptly. Tristan, for once, wasn't attempting to feign disinterest and sat, his attention quite obviously focused.

Deirdre noticed her brother's quiet entrance; she removed her thumb from her mouth and pressed her index finger to her lips, asking his silence, before turning her attention back to the story.

Dagonet's eyes glanced up at him and he gave him a smile, not breaking from his reading; Arthur nodded in return; the older knight looked back down.

Arthur moved along the wall, trying to disturb the others as little as possible; a few of the knights acknowledged his presence with a nod, smile or clasping of hands. Arthur came to a stop where Lancelot was sitting on the floor next to Dagonet's chair; he grasped his best friend's hand in greeting and slid down the wall to sit, scrunched between the wall at his back, several knights lying on the floor in front of him, Lancelot on his right and a bed on his left. He listened to Dagonet's deep rumbling voice; it had a calming effect, just what he needed.

Arthur's gaze was drawn around the room to the group of people who had become family to him. His brothers. He smiled when his eyes landed on Deirdre. And his sister.

He knew what he would want, but he needed to talk to Deirdre.

Arthur had just finished with his morning horseback training and was looking for Deirdre; she had gotten up and eaten breakfast before he had that morning and he hadn't seen her yet today.

"Bors, Galahad, Gawain!" he called out to the three knights, who were just ahead of him; they turned.

"Arthur! We're heading over to the tavern; you coming along?"

Arthur shook his head at Bors' question. "Not at the moment. I'm looking for Deirdre. Have any of you seen her?"

"She's over in the field with your aunt." Gawain pointed in the direction where the three had just left after archery.

"Thank you." Arthur nodded to them.

He easily found his sister and the elder woman. Deirdre was in one of the roughhewn dresses that had once belonged to Vanora; the older girl had had to alter all of them because Deirdre was so much smaller than she had been at the same age; she looked less like the daughter of a wealthy Roman family and more like a peasant girl. In contrast their aunt was wearing a dress of fine, flowing material that made her look every inch the High Priestess that she was; she was sitting on the ground more elegantly than Arthur had thought possible for someone to. Deirdre, who was kneeling next to their aunt, watched as Viviane held up a dead blossom; then cupped it in her hands, hiding it from sight; Arthur could just hear what she was saying.

"There is a life force in all things and elements, and we are all connected by it. Those who have the ability to wield these energies have a great gift." She opened up her hands and held up the now alive blossom; Deirdre gasped with delight; Viviane tucked the flower into the girl's tousled hair. "But we must always remember to respect the world around us and not abuse our powers."

"Is everyone able to do the same things?" Deirdre's eyes shone with curiosity.

Viviane shook her head. "Different people have different gifts. Most people are also stronger and more attuned – more closely connected to – one element; though we can have varying degrees of control over the other elements and a true Lady of the Lake is able to wield all of the elements equally."

"Like you?"

Viviane shook her head, laughing. "No, I am not a 'true' Lady of the Lake. We haven't had a 'true' one in a very long time; I was chosen because they believed me best suited in place of a true Lady; my element is water."

Deirdre's brow was furrowed. "Why hasn't there been a true Lady of the Lake?"

Viviane shrugged sadly. "There hasn't been one born, that we have found, in a long time, so we have stayed with the line of the last true Lady and chosen the best suited from the girls of that line; you and I are the last women of that line."

Deirdre's eyes went wide. "Does that mean I'm gonna be the Lady of the Lake?"

Viviane gave her a slightly sad smile. "Perhaps. We are still looking for a true Lady, but it may fall to you to carry the title." Viviane's face became serious. "I would prefer that it didn't have to come to that but it may if we cannot find a 'chosen'."

"Why would you prefer that I didn't be the Lady of the Lake?"

"Because it is a very heavy burden and carries a great many restrictions – things you aren't allowed to do." She gave the child a smile. "But let's not think on that any more for now; is there anything else you would like to know?"

Deirdre bit her lip. "What element was Mumma?"

Priestess smiled reminiscently. "Earth; as is your brother, and your father was a water."

"How can Arthur and my father have an element if they don't have magic?"

"Everyone is of one of the elements, even if they cannot manipulate the energies."

"What about me?"

"You are a bit of an oddity for our family, because most of our family members have been of the earth and water elements, with one of fire thrown in here and there. You are the first one in our family who is of the air."

Deirdre frowned. "Why am I different?"

Viviane laughed. "So full of questions! I don't know; it was just made so."

Deirdre opened her mouth to ask another question, but they heard a snap and they both turned in the direction of the sound.

"I'm sorry if I disturbed you," Arthur said apologetically.

"Arthur!" Deirdre leapt into his arms.

"It's all right." Viviane smiled at her nephew as he embraced his little sister.

"Aunt Viviane was telling me about how the Priestesses have power; did you know that your element is earth, like Mumma's? And Father's was water, like Aunt Viviane. But mine is air, different from everyone's!" She actually seemed to be starting to feel a little proud of being different; of course being as mischievous as she was she probably enjoyed the fact that she confused everyone with her being different.

"Really?" He had heard that of course, but decided not to let on that he had been eavesdropping on their conversation; he had also heard what Viviane had said about his baby sister maybe taking on the mantle of Lady of the Lake someday, and remembered the conversation he had heard when Deirdre was a baby; realizing that that is what their mother and aunt had been discussing. Viviane's voicing of her wish that Deirdre didn't have to take on the position had done nothing to dispel his own unhappiness with his sister's possible fate. "Deirdre, can we talk?"

She nodded her head vigorously.

He looked up at Viviane who smiled and nodded; getting up. "I have to speak with Wilda," she said, referring to one of her priestess companions. "I will see you both later."

The siblings watched their aunt head toward the inn before Arthur took his little sister's hand and headed off away from the wall.

"What did you want to talk about, Arthur?"

Arthur thought for several moments, trying to figure out how to phrase what he was going to say.

"Arthur?" Deirdre asked worriedly, after several moments of silence.

"I'm just thinking, 'Dre."

"What about?"

Arthur smiled at his sister's endless curiosity. He finally took a deep breath. "Aunt Viviane has made us an offer. As you know girls who are chosen for Avalon aren't taken until at least their seventh year." Deirdre nodded. "With Mother dead, I don't know how capable I will be in raising you, even for just two years, though I will surely do my best. However, Aunt Viviane has offered, should we wish, that she will take you to Avalon now, rather than in two years, and you can live there."

Deirdre bit her lip. "Is that was you want?" Her voice was soft and timid.

Arthur knelt down beside her. "I would like to keep you here with me forever if I could; I love you, Deirdre. But I also want what's best for you. Like I said, I'm not sure how to raise you, and things won't always be easy for the next two years, but I love you and I will do my best. I know that Aunt Viviane has had a son and knows how to raise children and things will probably be easier for you there. Just know that whatever you want I will love you and support you."

Deirdre bit her lip. "Do I have to choose now?"

Arthur shook his head. "No; you have until Aunt Viviane leaves in a week."

She nodded. "I'll think about it." She hugged her brother tightly. "I love you, Arthur."

He hugged her back, holding her like he'd never let her go. "I love you too, 'Dre. Always remember that."

And there we have it! No decisions made yet, but hopefully soon. I hope that you liked it! As always constructive criticism and praise are treasured!


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